Barbarian Queen
by Adrea019
Summary: He loved her appearance. She loved his throne. Everything else about each other they despised. Loveless marriage is one thing, but what happens when you marry someone you simply can't stand?
1. Betrothal

Éomer was looking at the plain fields in front of his eyes as the gentle autumn breeze from the window was stroking his face. He felt a strange sort of pride - like a satisfied parent - as he viewed the mountains with the snowy tops in one side, cosy little houses that were simple yet charming in their own way in another. Rohan was a gorgeous place, he thought as a shadow of a smile touched his lips. And the rohirrim had so much more to be proud of than just thier lightening-speed horses, which have long been recognised as the best in the world.

"Our ties with Gondor tightened a great deal when Lord Aragorn stepped up to the throne." Gambling said a little louder than usual as if to bring his lord and friend back to the discussion. "And yet the people are still uncertain. Eorlingas do not trust Gondorians just yet and the hostility is still avid."

"The people remember that Gondor did not come to our aid at the battle of Helms Deep." Éothain agreed. "And the fact that our own men - husbands, fathers and sons - died while helping Gondor is like salt on the fresh wound."

"King Theoden fell at the battle of the Pelennor Fields." Gambling mentioned what could not have ever been forgotten, but he had to convince his king on making the right decision even if it meant bringing back stinging memories. "Quite frankly, my king, the Rohirrim feel wronged."

"And having Gondorian Queen will erase that?" Éomer snorted turning away from the wide window into the gloomy room. "Being chased around by the princess of Dol Amorth will. . . _ease their pain_?"

"It actually might." Éothain smiled at his friends sarcasm. "They would get to see that the Gondorians are good people and that their lack of support during dark times is to be blamed on. . . unfortunate ruling, not the hearts of the warriors." he took a breath. "And even more important than that, you need an heir, Éomer. And not just one - with your temper you have to have at least a couple so that we can no longer sit at the edge of our seats every time you go hunting, my lord."

"I have just taken the throne, Éothain." the king frowned dropping to his seat. "Do you not think that I have enough time to produce a heir?"

"Time is a great luxury for a warrior, Éomer." a small and sad smile appeared on Éothain's lips. "You are the last male descendant of your blood line. We can not risk it being ended." At this point Éomer was staring into space, rubbing his forehead. Seeing that the young king is taking his words into consideration, Éothain carefully took a chance: "Nobody can compare with the beauty of the elves, of course, but Princess Lothíriel is said to be the prettiest of the human women."

"Her character." Éomer shot a glare, feeling utterly defeated in probably the most important battle of his life. "What about her character?"

"The princess. . ." Gamling blushed. "She has her flaws." he admitted.

"Is that so?" the king raised his eyebrow, finally seeing a weak spot in his councelor's plan. "And what would those be?"

"I prefer to put more emphasis on people's admirible traits."

"Do not make me order you around." Éomer glared.

"She might be. . . a little immature at times." Gamling rubbed his eyebrow uncomfortably. "Maybe a little spoiled which is rather understandable. One could describe her as capricious too."

"We can not expect her to be perfect considering no one is." Éothain chimed in. "Besides, women change greatly after marriage. I speak from experience."

"I do not want to have such experience with some spoiled princess!" Éomer threw his hands to his sides standing up. "I am a rider not a nanny. I worry about upcoming winter not marriage feasts."

"A good feast would raise the kingdom's spirits, my lord." Éothain smiled a little.

"Éomer, you know you will do it. You see the reasoning behind it and you can not deny the benefit of such deal." Gamling said. "So I suggest, my lord, we stop deciding what is already decided and start talking about matters of even greater importance. Winter is expected to be harsh this season."

"Fine." Éomer let out a tired breath. "Make it official." - he grabbed Gamling's arm as the man turned towards the door. "But let it be clear that I will _not_ put up with her whims. All I ask from her is to be quiet and to not hinder me in the ruling of Rohan. If she can do that, we will be fine. If she can not, I will send her right back to where she came from. Political scandal or not."

* * *

"Éomer King has officially asked for you hand, daughter." Prince Imrahil pointed with his eyes at the parchament on his table. "And I believe you two would make a good match."

"So do I, father." Lothíriel shyly looked at her hands neatly put on her light blue dress.

"Very well." Imrahil raised his eyebrows quite suprised with his daughter's quick acceptance. He has witnessed more than a few such conversations before between his noble friends and their daughters; he's seen their tantrums and tears, almost hysterical sobbings and deep depressions afterwards, so he was rather pleased to not have to go through it once more - this time with his own child. "We will set off to Edoras in a week, in that case. The king does not want to delay the marriage as the winter months will be extremely busy for him. Make sure to sew yourself warm clothing, Lothiriel, there's nothing like Rohirric winter."

"I will, Ada." small dimples showed in her cheeks as she smiled. His daughter was truly beautiful, Imrahil thought. She was petite with big grey eyes, pale skin and long dark brown hair that made her strawberry-red lips even more noticible. He wished her mother lived to see her - this human size porcelain doll. Yes, there hardly were any flaws about her appearance, the prince smiled, yet some of those things he noticed about her _character_ were quite disconcerting.

"Lothíriel," he said awkwardly, feeling guilty about making her marry a man she's never even seen before and being thrown off because of her such a call stance upon hearing the news. "King Elessar is of high opinion about King Éomer, which is almost a guarantee that he is a good and noble man. And, of course, his bravery in battle is legendary. But I am not forcing you to marry him if you do not wish so. Say a word and I will decline his offer."

"No, Ada!" there was fear in her eyes as soon as she's heard his words. "I meant to say. . ." she gathered herself not being able to stop the blushing, "I would be happy to call a man, who is so well respected by our king, my husband. Also, I highly doubt there is a better match for me in the Middle Earth."

"Yes, of course." Imrahil nodded. "In that case, with your approval, I will send a messenger to Rohan with our official response."

"I will leave you to it then." Lothíriel smiled raising from her chair and kissing her father's cheek.

* * *

"YES! YES! YES! WOOHOO!"

For the first time in his life, Amrothos of Dol Amroth was confused. Watching your sister jump up and down on her bed, squeaking, throwing around pillow feathers and messing her hair - all because she's got in an arranged marriage with a stranger, can do that to you.

"Jumping on bed was all fine and dandy when you were 5, Lothí, but at 20-something that's considered quite. . . improper."

"Who's the queen?" she ignored him completely. "I AM! Not you, not her, not anyone else, but me! No more bowing, no more following orders, no more blushing, uh-uh, no more. Woohoo!" she threw full fists of feathers above her head before falling backwards on her soft pillows.

"No, Lothíriel, indeed, I am not the queen." Amrothos shook his head, collecting feathers from his tunic.

"No, you're not. I am!" she paid no attention to his sarcasm, just laughing out joyfully.

"You mean you _will_ be." her older brother corrected her. "As of right now, you're _merely_ a princess, sister."

"Not for long, brother dear." she brought a pillow on her chest and hugged it biting her lip. "In a week, I will be the queen. . . of Rohan." she said dreamily.

"The queen of barbarians and savages. What an exceptional honor." Amrothos yawned. "Are you sure they have baths there? I wouldn't be certain. In fact, I wouldn't be certain they don't sleep in the stables and eat raw meat." he moved his gaze to her. "Think, Lothíriel. Better 'princess of something' than 'queen of nothing'".

"Oh Rohan isn't nothing," she lifted herself up with her elbows. "That's like a quarter of the world. And I am going to be the queen of it!" she screamed again, closing her eyes tightly and falling back down on her pillows.

"You want to be the queen so much you are willing to marry that uncivilised horse master?"

"I want to be the queen so much I'd be willing to marry Lord Sauron if I had to." Amrothos instinctively straightened up looking around as if checking if no one overheard his sister.

"What about Dol Amroth?" he asked finally. "What about the sea? In Rohan, they probably don't even know what that is. What about the sandy beaches and white houses? The balls and fancy dresses?"

"Oh, I will miss that, a lot." she admitted biting her lip and staring into the ceiling.

"The lands of the Riddermark are dry and boring." Amrothos shook his head. "Their houses - simple. Their manners - non-existant. Their men are tall and gnarly, women - dirty and masculine. How can one live there is beyond me. And you will marry the king of those brutes? The worst one of them all?"

"The king is a respected. . ."

"The king is feared." Amrothos cut her off. "I rode with him, Lothiriel. He's always furious like someone just stole his sword and raped his sister. Glaring at everyne for no reason. . . He doesn't even wear a crown or a tunic - just an armor and a helmet which is no different from his soldiers."

"A repellent man he sounds." Lothíriel frowned. "But," - her face lit up with a bright smile again. "I am going to be the QUEEN!"

* * *

"Ugh," somewhere in Rohan Éomer sighed supporting his forehead with his hand, holding a mug of ale in another. "I am going to _have_ a queen."


	2. First Impressions

"Where are these people?" Éomer frowned looking ahead. "If they do not hurry up, we will not be able to ride out to the mountains today."

"Greeting your bride is much more important than dealing with the wild men at the moment." Éowyn placed her hand above her eyes raising on her toes to get a better view. "Ah, here they are. I see small dots moving towards Edoras."

"About time. I can not let my bride ruin my schedule."

"You're such a brute, Éomer." Éowyn rolled her eyes.

"Have you met lady Lothíriel before, sister?" Éowyn stirred uncomfortably. _Why is everyone so reluctant when it comes to talking about the princess? _"Have you?"

"I have seen her once or twice while visiting Gondor, yes."

"And what can you tell me about her?"

"I don't think I have to, Éomer. She will be here in a couple of minutes so you will see for yourself." she answered as the gates of Edoras opened. "Are you excited?'

"About what?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Nevermind." Éowyn shook her head disbelievingly.

* * *

"Do I have something on my face?" Lothíriel frowned turning to Erchirion as her horse slowly carried her through the plains of Rohan. "Why are these people staring at me?"

"It's the hair and the skin," her older brother smiled. "they are not used to such a pale woman with such dark hair. You are quite the sensation, dear sister."

"Well, this sensation has her whole body aching." she grimaced. "I do hope they have prepared me a hot bath, comfortable bed and fresh dinner?"

"I'm sure." Erchirion chuckled. "You are so worn out after riding a horse for a couple of days, how are you going to bear him children?" he raised his eyebrows after horror made it's way to Lothíriel's face. "You do know you are expected to bear Rohan a heir, don't you?"

"Well, I guess queenhood has it's price." she mumbled. "I just hope I will not have to pay it too early."

"Please, Lothíriel, do not voice your opinion on this subject to anyone else but me." he said. "Or when we leave back to Dol Amroth, you will have to come with us."

"When _do_ you leave back to Gondor?" she asked frowning.

"Your brothers, father and the royal couple leave in a week." another man rode to her left side and Lothíriel smiled as she recognised him to be Faramir. If her future husband is at least half as handsome as her cousin, she will be happy. "I, on the other hand, will stay a little longer. Éomer King requested me to help him with the rebuilding of the burnt villages."

"In other words he wants to give you a decent reason to spend more time with Lady Éowyn." Lothíriel giggled. "I bet she can not wait for you to marry her and take her to Gondor."

"I'm afraid she prefers Rohan to Gondor." Faramir blushed. Lothíriel widened her eyes in surprise. How can anyone prefer Rohan to Gondor? "But look! See the tall man at the steps of the Golden Hall? That is Éomer, King of Rohan."

"Your future husband." Erchirion sighed.

"I can't quite see his face from here." Lothiriel frowned looking ahead. "Is he handsome?"

"Is it important for a man to be handsome?" Faramir raised his eyebrow.

"Of course it is," she rolled her shoulders. "why do you think none of the orcs are married? I hope that he's at least a bit better looking than that, although he's a Rohir so I don't expect much."

"Dear cousin," Faramir sighed deeply. "You are going to have to adjust your attitude greatly in order for this marriage to work."

* * *

"Lord Faramir will be of significant importance in rebuilding the villages which have been damaged by the wild men." Gamling said as Éomer, Éowyn, himself and a couple of more courtiers were moving towards their newly-arrived guests. "He is a wise man and proved himself to be trustworthy many times before." Éomer couldn't help but notice the proud smile on his sister's lips, although his attention was directed to the Gondorian nobles. "Also, we must admit that after King Elessar's coronation, the stewards are no longer really needed there, so he will be glad to stay in Rohan and cooperate with us."

"Good." the king nodded making sure Éowyn can't hear him. "Follow his orders and be pleasant, but watch him closely. I will not give my sister's hand to him before I am completely and undoubtedly convinced that he is worthy of it."

"Yes, my lord."

Éomer was now just a short distance away from the guests and their horses when a flash of long dark hair sprayed on a royal blue dress caught his eye as the lady was helped by a noble-looking man to dismount.

"Éomer, my friend," he was forced to look away as Aragorn put his hand on his shoulder smiling gently. "we have met many times before in rather difficult circumstances, but it is particulary good to see you at a pleasant occasion."

"Indeed, dear friend," Éomer mirrored Aragorn's position. "Finally we meet not in war."

"Poets would dispute that, my lord."

She was beautiful, Éomer thought. Even in a company of Arwen Undomiel - where every woman looks plain - she indeed was beautiful. She wore a dark blue dress and her hair was hanging freely in dark gentle waves. Greyish eyes were watching him intently, studying him as she curtseyd. He wondered what she was thinking. Éomer noticed that the woman had a very feminine figure - like the sand clock. Her waist was very slim, her breasts and hips full. He would be lying if he said he didn't wonder what she looked like with that dress below her ankles.

"Éomer, let me introduce to you Lady Lothíriel of Dol Amroth." King Elessar smiled politely.

"Princess," he took her hand and raised it to his lips "welcome to your new home."

* * *

"I wish that everyone would go blind for a moment, so I could kiss you, my dear."

Éowyn saw lust and longing and so many other things in Faramir's face that she would have gladly pricked out those curious eyes of the crowd herself so she could take him up on his offer.

"Soon" she said in a near-whisper.

"We will need your brother's consent."

"He will give it, gladly." Éowyn smiled. "Just be yourself and do not try to make him like you. That is the only way to gain Éomer's respect."

"I will steal you if I have to." he said looking down at her.

"I hope it will be easier than that."

* * *

"What do you think?" Amrothos asked closing the door behind him and his sister as they entered her chamber.

"I must admit," she said taking off her shoes, sitting down on her bed and rubbing her aching feet. "the man has his charm. I would call him handsome, definitely. But he was looking at me like he wanted to eat me."

"You never know with those Riders of Rohan." he said sinking in a comfortable chair near the fireplace. "Giving you away is hard enough, giving you away to a savage exceeds my abilities."

"I do not think he's a savage, though there's work to be done for sure." she said thoughtfully. "Give me some time and I'll make him as nice and polished as any Gondorian noble."

"Or he will make you as raffish and uncivilised as any Rohirric hussy."

"Well, to be fair, without the Rohirrim we would probably be dead right now."

"We said 'thank you', raised a toast and sent them back home with great contributions. I think we are even." Amrothos responded before the siblings heard a knock on the door. He lazily raised from his seat. "I'm afraid I am going to have to leave you, sister, to greet your visitors alone, for I have run out of fake smiles already." he opened the door to let in a blonde plainly-dressed woman, bowing to her slightly and leaving.

"My lady" the woman curtseyd. "my name is Maerwynn, I will be your maid. Is there anything I could do for you at this time?"

"Yes. Sit." Lothíriel patted at the bed beside her. The maid blushed deeply, searching for words to explain how uncommon it is for a maid and a queen-to-be to sit nearby like equals, but ultimately did as she was told. "Now tell me everything you know and everything you have ever heard about your king."

* * *

"My counselors put in a lot of work to convince me on this marriage. But tell me honestly, Aragorn," Éomer said from his chair not turning his eyes away from once again quarelling dwarf Gimli and elf Legolas who could not decide which weapon was more useful in battle - axe or bow. "what do _you_ think?"

"You're my friend, Éomer and I can not lie to you." the king of Gondor smiled sadly, stroking his beard. "I think your counselors should be banished."

* * *

**I can not find the good enough words in my vocabulary to express my gratefulness to **_LadyNostarielofMirkwood, Pipkin in the Grass, Lucy _**and**_ Talia119 _**for their comments. Reviews make a writer ( especially not particulary popular one ) feel like a giggly teenage girl on her first date.** **Thank you!**


	3. And So It All Begins

Next morning Lothíriel awoke early - which was very unlike her. She braided her hair, put on a rather simple bordo dress and walked outside her bed-chamber in order to look around Meduseld. It was still dawn so no one was there and she could her the echo of each step she took. She was not impressed with the interior, Lothíriel frowned - such spacious halls could be decorated much better. But then again, as with Rohirric men, she didn't expect much from Rohirric interior masters either.

Lothíriel was very excited at the idea of becoming the Queen, but she had to admit that there were certain things on her mind that concerned her.

First of all, she knew she would be homesick. The climate and the landscape in Rohan was so much different than that in Dol Amroth. She could feel the dryness of the weather and exclusively green-brown colors of the Mark made her miss some blue and white.

She would also miss her brothers. Sure, they were annoying at times, but they were part of her life that could not be excluded. She could hardly imagine an existence without chattering with Amrothos, having heart-to-hearts with Erchirion or being moralised by Elphir.

She was also quite intimidated by Éomer. He did not look a patient man and she knew - no matter how good she thought of herself - that patience was an essential thing when living with her.

But more than anything, Lothíriel was frightened by the mare thought of her upcoming wedding night. She loved flirting and teasing men she liked, but what would it feel like to stand in front of a man naked? Especially a man like Éomer - handsome, fierce and probably experienced? What was she supposed to do, what was _he_ supposed to do, how long did it last, how much did it hurt?

She had many questions and zero answers.

Sighing deeply, she went through the door and into the front porch of Meduseld. Only when it was too late to turn on her heel and go back, she noticed another figure standing there.

"Ah, Lady Lothíriel." Éomer forced a small smile. "It's pleasant to see you."

He did not look pleased at all.

She curtseyed gracefully as he offered her his hand.

"Lets take a walk through Edoras, shall we?"

Neither of them wanted to, but they set off regardless. Their lack of desire to spend time together was actually a pretty big problem in itself because just in a day they would get married and start making babies. There was no such thing as 'separating' or 'parting ways' in the Middle-Earth: if they got married they would spend the rest of their lives together. Unless one killed the other, of course. Then things would be easier at least for a while.

They walked in uncomfortable silence for quite some time, dropping awkward comments about the weather, beauty of queen Arwen and other obvious things. Then silence fell upon them again. Lothíriel thought hard on what subject she should touch on next, but nothing came to mind. She really had nothing to tell this man and she did not think that anything he said would interest her. He felt the exact same way.

"What do you think of Rohan so far, my lady?" Éomer asked finally, hoping to make small indifferent conversation complimenting her country and listening to praises for his. Both of them felt relieved for finally finding the seemingly fit topic. The whole point of this walk was to make as many people as possible see them together, convcincing them that the couple shared warm relationship. Which was, of course, a lie. As a matter of fact, they shared no relationship at all thus far.

"It's not as bad as I expected." she yawned making him stop dead in his tracks. "Do not take offence, my lord," she urged him to go on gently tugging on his arm. "but when you grow up in Dol Amroth, at the sea, every other country tends to leave a rather disappointing impression."

That was the time Éomer, King of Rohan, learned that none topic is safe when you're conversing with Lothíriel. And not just that. With those few words the relationship between the king and the queen-to-be finally began. That relationship, though, turned out to be _a_ bit _different_ than either of them imagined or their counselors expected. But all in due time.

"I have been at the sea," he snapped. "and quite frankly, I do not understand what's so fascinating about it." Now it was her time to gasp. "Actually, compared to the calm clear rivers of the Mark, I find it's turbulent waves rather repellent."

She pursed her lips tightly as he finished his comment.

They did not exchange a single word on their way back to Meduseld.

* * *

"The White City forever holds my heart, but I must admit - I have missed Rohirric plains." Faramir said as himself and Éowyn rode out into the more distinct lands of Rohan. Both woke up early that morning - as was usual with them - and decided to enjoy some private time before the city rose. . . and started talking.

"Yes, I believe it will be hard for me to leave all of this behind." Éowyn responded sadly.

"You are not being forced into marriage with me, my sweet lady."

"No, but leaving home is hard nonetheless." she turned her head to him and smiled. "At least I have a good reason to do it."

"Talking of marriage, what are your predictions, my love, for the freshly-baked couple?"

"I do not think they realize what they are doing." the blonde woman frowned thoughtfully. "I tried to reason with Gamling and Éothain that advising someone to marry a stranger is rather unwise, but they are too caught up in political benefits of such union to care about it on a more personal level. And Éomer," she blushed uncertain on what reaction to expect from Faramir - Lothíriel's cousin. "my brother does not care enough to try and establish an emotional connection with Lady Lothíriel."

"Why not?" Faramir arched an eyebrow.

"He is a fighter, not a lover." she sighed. "I think both my dear brother and your charming cousin are entering deep waters." Éowyn giggled. "Lets see who drowns first."

* * *

Lothíriel was furious. She was trying to be honest with her husband-to-be and in return got a slap in the face. His words were completely unfounded and ignorant, she thought as she stormed through the halls to her bedchamber. Staring at the floor and muttering curses under her breath made her unaware of a figure standing in her way before she crashed into it.

"My lady" a curvacious blonde woman smiled curtseying slightly while holding her head high.

"That's not a real _bow_!" Lothíriel retorted too irritated to put up with anything that didn't please her.

"You're not a real _queen_." smile never left the woman's face. "Not yet at least."

"How dare you?" by that point Lothíriel could have sworn that her eyes were burning red and smoke was fuming from her nose. Too much. Too much stress for one day!

"I am not perfect, Lady Lothíriel and admit to having many flaws, but shyness is not one of them."

"Who are you?" the queen-to-be threw her hands at her sides annoyed and thrown off by the woman's antics. This is not how she imagined her life as a queen to be, _at all_. People were supposed to love her and admire her and respect her every wish and need, not blatantly insult her and her country just after she arrived.

"My name is Lady Esdeline, I am the heiress of Rohan's _second _most infuential family."

"So tell me, Lady Esdeline, heiress of Rohan's _second _most infuential family," she mocked. "what are you doing in the Golden Hall?"

"I was invited for dinner, my lady."

"You seem to know the halls of Meduseld well." Lothíriel stated looking around the place to show that the conversation was not pleasant nor interesting to her.

"That's because I was supposed to live here." Lothíriel's head turned right back to the lady in front of her. "Before you came up, I was the most likely candidate to marry lord Éomer." she explained as a small smile was still evident on her lips.

"You must hate me then quite a bit?" the princess frowned now very curious.

"Oh, yes." the blonde nodded. "I had been throwing things at the wall and cursing Gondor for days." she admitted. "But the Rohirric skin is thick and I am pleased to say that I think I am quite over it now, my lady."

"I do not think you had much of a choice, lady Esdeline." Lothíriel tilted her head.

"Probably not." Esdeline shrugged. "But now I think we will be great friends, princess."

"Some people think the world is round." Lothíriel sniffed walking past the blonde woman and to her chamber.

* * *

**Hugs and kisses to **_Pipkin in the Grass, Talia119, wondereye, silverswath, LadyNostarielofMirkwood, __Kateari _**and** _littlemsstrawberry_** !**


	4. Wedding Day

Five suns have risen and set since Lothíriel's last encounter with Lady Esdeline and Éomer King. She did not see the blonde woman throughout that time and had only brief dry meetings with Éomer, none of which have been private.

It was the eve of her wedding and Lothíriel had already unbraided her hair, changed to her night gown and taken a warm bath and was now leaning against her bedpost, covered in sheets, intending to go to sleep. And to speek honestly - to squirm in bed from side to side _trying_ to sleep while playing through all the worst possible scenarios of tomorrow's wedding ceremony and wedding night in her head. Her plan was cut short though, by the knock on the door. Before Lothíriel could even open her mouth to send the person away, the door opened and revealed lady Esdeline leaning on the doorpost with a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand.

"Good evening, my lady." she smiled. "Care to celebrate the last day of your maidenhood with some fine wine from the cellar of late King Thengel?"

"Are you serious?" the princess didn't know whether to frown or to laugh. "How did the guards let you in here this late?"

"Let's just say I have my ways." Esdeline smirked shutting the door behind her with her leg. "And they may or may not involve the use puppy-dog eyes." she put the glasses on Lothíriel's night table and began to uncork the bottle.

"I thought you do not admit any other animals but horses here in Rohan?" Lothíriel asked.

"Gondorians and their perceptions. . ." Esdeline sighed shaking her head.

"Why would you want to celebrate me snatching away your potential husband?"

"Well," the blonde woman sighed, handing Lothíriel a full glass. "my genuine purpose was to make you so drunk you do not make it to your wedding tomorrow." she took a glass herself and sat on the bed. "But now that you caught me, I guess I will have to settle on giving you a mild headache and hope that you forget your vows."

"Then it is time I call the guards." she sipped.

"You do that and in the meantime I will use a chance to cut your dress in peaces."

"In that case, it seems that I will have to endure your visit."

"Yes," Esdeline nodded thoughtfully. "that does sound like the smartest option, although terribly inconvenient for me."

They had touched upon a great many topics before the bottle stood empty. Esdeline told Lothíriel about the fashion currently in Rohan, Lady Éowyn's defeat of the Witch-king of Angmar ( "Do not cross the White Lady" ), Éomer's many flings and Grima Wormtongue's disgustingly pale face to name a few. None of these subjects interested Lothiriel quite as much as the story of Lady Esdeline herself - maybe because she was the only person of all the afore mentioned that she really found emotional connection with.

Turns out, Esdeline had been a widow for half a year, as her husband, Lord Fendrel, was one of the men that fell at the Battle of Helm's Deep ( "That is why my marriage with Lord Éomer would have been so _poetically_ correct." - she shot Lothiriel a look. ) Even Lothíriel was surprised at how matter-of-factly Esdeline spoke - she had been married to Fendrel for barely six months, and half of those he spent away, so basically, he was just a bit better than a stranger.

When the last gulp of wine had been swallowed, Esdeline kissed both of Lothíriel's cheeks, collected her "equipment" and left the queen-to-be alone in a spacy, unfamiliar room just hours away from the most important day of her life.

* * *

"Lady Lothíriel? Princess? Wake up! It is time to wake up, my lady! Is she dead? . ."

The alarmed voice was right in her ear and did not sound pleasant at all to Lothíriel at such an early hour. She suspected it belonged to her maid Maerwynn, but opened one eye just to make sure nonetheless. She came to regret it the very next moment as Maerwynn, who saw her waking up, slapped her hand on her sweaty forehead relieved.

"Thank sweet Elbereth," she breathed. "I thought you would never wake up and miss your wedding."

And then it hit her - it was her wedding day. Suddently all the sleepiness went away like it was never there in the first place and Lothiriel could almost feel herself glowing. Today was the day that Rohan would be blessed with a new queen - the prettiest, fairest, most elegant queen they had ever seen. The shadow went over her face when she thought of the wedding night or just simply about the disrespectful brute she was going to marry - but then she began imagining everyone bowing to her as their new queen and smile rose again.

Five maids were circling around in her spacious bedchamber, two of them were helping her put on a traditional baby-blue wedding gown with crystal drop-like embroidery ( it wasn't overly flashy but anyone with half a brain would realize that it cost a fortune ), one was doing her light make-up, another one was putting her chestnut hair in a neat bun as Maerwynn was ordering all of them around.

Lothíriel wore no jewelry that day. It was not going to outshine her tiara.

* * *

"We need to think of a way to compensate the families of fallen Riders." Éomer stated readjusting his dark green cape in front of a mirror. Gamling, Éothain and Aragorn were in the bedchamber with him, the first two were practically rubbing their hands with joy as two goofy children in the firework storage. "Even if it means taking away from the monthly purse of Meduseld. Any suggestions, Gamling?"

"Yes." the man said without even hearing what the question was. He was way too excited about the 'perfect marriage' to really bother about anything else at the moment.

"Are you even listening to me?" Éomer shot him an irritated look.

"Are you sure you would be willing to reduct the royal family's income for these compensations?" Aragorn asked with a respectful look in his eyes.

"Why not?" the king shrugged. "We do not need that much gold anyways."

"What about your wife?" Éothain and Gamling almost melted at the word. "Will _she_ agree with that?"

"I am not planning to give her much of a choice." Éomer responded sharply. "We shall go now. The sooner it begins, the quicker it will end." he turned towards the door. "I expect carefully prepared projects on the subject by the evening from you two." she glanced at his overly excited friends.

"Oh, but my lord, you will be rather busy this evening." Éothain grinned.

The king frowned at his brother-in-arms and one of his closest friends. He had to admit though, the wedding night was the only thing he was looking forward to in this whole entire ceremony.

"By the morning then." he mumbled stepping through the door and into his new life.

* * *

She could hear the silent talking and laughing of the people behind the door - it was like a bee hive: seperately they were silent, but together they made quite the noise. Lothíriel's throat was dry and she felt sickness in her stomach that even her father's presence couldn't shoo away. Her palms were a bit sweaty and Lothíriel, irritated by that, rubbed them on her dress before returning her right hand to her father's left.

"Are you ready?" Prince Imrahil smiled warmly at his daughter as all the voices died down and the soft solemn melody took it's place.

"I have been waiting for this day all my life, but now I am afraid." she looked at him teary-eyed. Imrahil pressed her hand gently as he could feel it shaking.

"There is nothing to fear." he smiled at her reassuringly. "Sometime, you will look upon this day with a smile on your face and wish to relive it."

"Yes, hopefully." she smiled back gathering herself together.

"Now come, before the king begins thinking you stood him up."

"I will not stand him up, although he deserves it." she said dryly as two servants opened the hard wooden door, revealing them to the large crowd in the hall of Meduseld.

She was mesmerized. That is really the only way to describe that feeling in her chest as she slowly made her way to the altar through what she guessed to be at least 700 - 800 people. Lothíriel recognized none of the pleasantly smiling faces near the entrance - the very end of the hall from where she started her walk. Those were probably the lower-rank nobles, the princess guessed, and she will hardly ever know their names.

The violins kept playing as she walked further, closer and closer to where Éomer ( who she refused to glance at on principle ) and Gandalf - an extremely old White Wizard, who she only heard tales about - stood.

The nearer to the altar, the more people started looking familiar. She saw a mischievously grinning Lady Esdeline in lovely peach dress, who mouthed "It should have been me", making Lothíriel stick her tongue out at the blonde and then chuckle. She did not notice Éomer raising an eyebrow at that as she ignored him. . . on their own wedding! Esdeline was surrounded by what Lothiriel guessed to be her family members, all of whom had dry cold smiles on their faces that did not reach their eyes.

Her gaze quickly ran through the crowd and returned back on the extremely handsome golden-haired man with a little birth mark on his cheek who was smiling pleasantly at her and bowed slightly as she passed him. Lothíriel bit her lip without noticing. She will have to ask Esdeline about him later.

In the most honorable seats she saw all three of her brothers - Elphir and Echirion looked rather pleased, Amrothos gave her a "there's still time to run" look, which she giggled at. _Run from what? Becoming a queen? _Elphir's wife Mariel was standing nearby and gave her a wink. They left their little son Alphros at Dol Amroth with a governess that looked after Lothíriel in her childhood too. With them stood her dear cousin Faramir, her first crush and idol, with a smile on the face of a man, who wouldn't hurt a fly.

She bowed her head slightly to the King and Queen of Gondor, receiving the same from them and feeling a rush of excitement flow through her. With them stood the most flawless looking man she ever laid eyes on, his long light hair neatly brushed, his eyes deeper than any ocean. Clearly an elf. His smile almost put a spell on her and she could hardly look away - but when she did she saw a dwarf at his side, looking more excited than anyone in the hall.

Even smaller than Gimli were four lords, that were the strange mixture of children and grown men. Lothíriel could only identfiy them as hobbits, which she thought to be a myth before.

Straight at Éomer's side stood Lady Éowyn, which Lothíriel, after Esdeline's telling, feared. She knew she needed this woman's approval or her neck would be in jeopardy. She bowed her head to the blonde too.

Only when Imrahil put her hand in another - a bigger and more tanned one - she was forced to look at Éomer. Lothíriel almost gasped. He looked. . . attractive. Moreso than she ever saw him. His eyes were burning holes in her, but not in a judging or threatening way. He studied her just as she studied him. _Maybe my eyes are burning too?_

She forgot all about her principles and smiled brightly. His responding grin was way less excited.

"Dear friends from all over Middle-Earth," Gandalf began as the couple turned to him. "We are gathered here today, after many storms and struggles, to celebrate peace and love." Éomer smiled ironically at the word. "For there is no greater power than love and no more valuable gift to man than a loving wife." Lothiriel looked down with a small mocking smile.

She didn't really hear what followed next as her mind wandered on many other things, more important than listening to meaningless words. She thought of Dol Amroth and the Sea, comparing them with the dry hot fields of Rohan. She thought of the upcoming wedding celebration and the attractive blond man she saw on her way to the altar. Lady Éowyn and how to gain her liking - if she couldn't manage, the beautiful blonde must get married to Faramir and leave to Gondor immediately. And, of course, the wedding night. Shiver ran down her spine. She did not look forward to it at all.

Éomer gently pressed her hand, waking her up from her thoughts.

"Lothíriel, if you are ready and willing, you may make your vows." Gandalf smiled warmly at her. In return, a smile raised on her face bright like a sun. Just a few words. Just a few simple words stood between her and the throne she desired so greatly.

"I, Lothíriel, _princess_ of Dol Amroth, daughter of _Prince_ Imrahil," she could barely restrain her smile even as she was talking. "take you, Éomer, son of Éomund, _King_ of Rohan," her smile widened, he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "to be my rightful husband. I vow to love and respect you in happiness and sorrow, victory and defeat, health and desease or injury. When shadows come and they pass, I will be there with you, my love, my king, my husband." For some reason, to him it sounded more like a threat than anything else.

"Éomer, if you wish, you may follow." Gandalf turned his eyes to the king. Lothíriel's smile was hurting her cheeks by that time. Eomer sighed like a man in defeat. Her face darkened and a grin died down like a flower in autumn.

"I, Éomer, son of Éomund, King of Rohan, take you, Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil, _princess_ of Dol Amroth," he couldn't help a little sting. "to be my rightful wife. I vow to love and take care of you no matter the circumstances and the bumps in our road. I shall come back to you and you only after battles - victorious or not, in war or in peace. I shall desire and cherish no other woman but you for the rest of my life, my love, my queen, my wife."

The corner of her lip lifted a little at the word 'queen'. This was her moment and she was not going to let that arrogant brute ruin it for her.

"In that case, you shall conseal your oaths with a kiss." Gendalf said loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. It seemed that every person in the hall extended their necks.

Still offended, she did not move an inch towards him, not even moving her neck closer to welcome his lips. When they came, a group of butterflies appeared in her stomach and all 700-800 people vanished. His kiss was soft yet firm, like that of a man trying to restrain himself. By no means was this her first kiss, but the previous ones were innocent and playful. Éomer's kiss was somehow. . . different. She sensed that for him, it was merely a tiny little step towards what he really wanted from her.

Lothíriel felt a smug smile on his face when she tilted herself up on her tiptoes to press closer against his lips.

When Éomer lowered a gorgeous emerald tiara on her head soon afterwards, she wanted to cry from joy. This was, undoubtedly, the best day of her life.

* * *

**Cheers go out to **_LadyNostarielofMirkwood_**,**_ Talia119_**,**_ Glory Bee**, **Pipkin in the Grass _**and **_wondereye _**!**

**Oh and to **_Glory Bee:  
_**I have actually been thinking about your comment all week. Am I really making Lothiriel very unlikeable? Maybe I am going overboard with the whole arrogant, spoiled princess thing. . . But I am terribly afraid of making her a meek and bland sunshine that she's usually portrayed as ( not that there's something wrong with it, some of those stories are brilliant ). Anyway, I'm afraid it's too late now to change her character ( I have already written like 8 chapters and a bunch of outtakes that I will use in further ones ). I can only hope now that even if I can't make her a somehow-likeable character, I will make her a memorable one.  
**


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